


Tumblr Fics

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Not all warnings apply to every chapter, Pairings and warnings will be listed for each individual chapter, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: various tumblr fills/fics that had no other home.





	1. harrisco + "i didn't know you were that kinky"

**Author's Note:**

> pairing: harrisco  
> prompt: "i didn't know you were that kinky" + seeing cisco be a badass hero does things to harry  
> chapter specific warnings: roleplay, not well discussed roleplay (cisco didn't realize what was going to be involved in meta vs. villain roleplay), semi public sex, oral sex, harry having no chill.

Cisco is only as rough as he needs to be. He crowds Harry against the roof wall instead of pushing him, keeps his hands on Harry’s chest instead of pinning Harry’s wrists, and through it all never loses his smile. Always so good. Always a hero. 

 

Harry wouldn’t have this kind of self awareness. 

 

But Cisco has gentility in his muscle memory. He’s programmed himself to hold back, use only enough force, tap into just the surface of his power. He could be anything, but this is what he’s chosen: kindness, and hope, and playing meta and robber with Harry on the rooftop. 

 

“Didn’t think you’d be taking on Vibe today, huh?” Cisco says, still grinning. “Not so tough without your big gun, are you?”

 

Harry tries not to grin back. “I guess not. You bring all the bad guys here, or am I just special? Or did you have something other than bringing me in in mind?”

 

Cisco places a hand over his heart, all mock shock. “I’m deeply, personally offended you think I would do such a thing. I’m a hero. I only wanted to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself for crimes. But if you’d rather I take you to CCPD…”

 

A gust of wind blows Cisco’s curls. Harry has to stop himself from reaching out to tuck the wayward locks behind Cisco’s ear. Keep up the fantasy, Wells. 

 

He leans his head against the door, stretching his throat, and watches Cisco shine. So powerful and earnest, unbreakable under Harry’s hands, under all the disappointments and cruelties of this city. This Earth. Harry’s chest aches in heat with his gut. 

 

It’s greed. Simple and primal. All the heat that coils in him when Cisco dons his Vibe gear and saves the world. All the want that bites him shaking when Cisco blasts a bad guy to their back or breaches through the universe. Harry’s greedy to know it. To own it. To feel it crush out the ugliness inside of him.

 

“What exactly would this redemption entail, Vibe?”

 

Cisco taps his chin. “Pizza. Lots of it. And a full Harry Potter marathon.”

 

Harry stares at him. 

 

“Star Wars marathon? Listen, I’m up for negotiation - ”

 

Honestly, Harry doesn’t know what he expected. He probably should have been more direct when he’d cornered Cisco a few nights ago, not even able to wait for him to open a breach to their apartment before he got his mouth on Cisco’s skin. When Cisco asked what brought on the eagerness in Harry’s hands, not that he was complaining, all Harry could pant was that Cisco was good. A hero. 

 

“I could make it worth your while,” Harry says, feeling ridiculous as he says it, but all the want quaking through him eases it. 

 

He pushes from the door, stalking forward, slow and predatory in his movements. His gaze roams the stretch of leather, of muscles, taking particular stock in the frankly obscene way the soft black curls around Cisco’s thighs. He licks his lips. When he finally looks into Cisco’s face, Cisco’s mouth is open. 

 

“Um. I get the feeling you’re not talking about Star Wars.”

 

“Not talking about Star Wars,” Harry breathes. His eyes have dropped to Cisco’s legs again but all he can see is the blaze of muscle, the way they flexed and flowed when Cisco tackled a meta to the ground earlier today. “A deal. I’ll get you off, if you get me off.”

 

Cisco gapes at him. “Dude. This is what you meant when you said you wanted to see Vibe in action?” 

 

Harry rolls his eyes to the sky as his skin pulls sheepish. He knew Cisco agreed to this too easily. Stupid. Ridiculous.

 

“If you don’t want - ”

 

“Oh, no. I definitely want.” Cisco’s shock has been replaced by that happy, buzzing beauty. “I just didn’t know you were so kinky.”

 

Harry swallows, thick and shallow. He feels stretched thin. He feels too large for his limbs. 

 

“So. Do we have a deal?”

 

Cisco pulls his lip between his teeth. Harry wants to fall right into him. “I don’t know. I’ve never...done anything like this before. Do you promise not to commit anymore crimes after this?”

 

“I promise to only commit crimes when I know you’ll be the one to catch me.”

 

“Aw, Harry. That’s sweet.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes. He closes the rest of the distance between them, sliding his fingers with more sureness than he feels under the waistband of Cisco’s pants, pulling him forward. Cisco inhales, sharp, and reaches out to steady himself with Harry’s arms.

 

Sinking into that dark part, those whispers Harry can ignore most days, Harry noses along Cisco’s cheekbone.

 

“Do we have a deal, Vibe?”

 

“Yes,” Cisco gasps, digging his fingers into Harry’s biceps. “Yes, we have a deal.”

 

Harry has to kiss him. It breaks the role but he doesn’t care. He does let himself nip at Cisco’s lips, kiss him harder than normal, take everything the way a villain would. Cisco kisses back, open and groaning and good. Harry wallows in it before dropping to his knees.

 

Lust has Harry’s hands shaking, so he starts with his lips. He mouths over Cisco, whose only now flushing hard. Harry’s already aching, throbbing in his want, but he ignores it. This is about Cisco. About his hero.

 

He slides his palms up Cisco’s shaking thighs. It sends a jolt of power through him, making Cisco tremble, making Cisco want. His teeth scrape over Cisco’s hip. Cisco groans, fingers winding in Harry’s hair, and pulls. 

 

Harry groans right along with him. He hurries. He has to peel Cisco’s stupid tight pants down, his stupid briefs with the diamond pattern. His fingers shake and sweat but when he manages to work Cisco’s dick free, all of his nerves still. 

 

Cisco is panting above him. Dragging his fingernails over Harry’s scalp, still gentle, mixing shivers with all of Harry’s heat. 

 

Harry wishes he had it in him to tease. To give Cisco wave after wave of pleasure, drag it out until Cisco can barely keep his legs beneath him. But he’s a creature of need. He’s been digging his nails into his palm at the thought of this for days. 

 

“Oh fuck,” Cisco says, low, when Harry swallows him deep. “You really don’t want to go to jail.”

 

Harry hums around him. He breathes in Cisco’s scent, the heaviness of his breath, then sucks him deeper. Nose pressed to Cisco’s quivering belly, Harry glances up. Cisco’s eyes are closed. He’s lost.

 

He whines when Harry pulls away.

 

“Keep your eyes on me, hero,” Harry says, much more sure than he feels. He doesn’t know if he’s crossing a line. Pushing Cisco against one of those boundaries he’s so afraid to fall past. Maybe they should’ve talked about this more. Maybe he should’ve given Cisco a signal. Maybe - 

 

“I thought this was supposed to be about what gets me off,” Cisco says. He’s still petting through Harry’s hair. He’s still panting. 

 

Harry closes his own eyes. Fuck, indeed. 

 

“Then tell me. How does Central City’s greatest hero like to be sucked?”

 

“I’m not,” Cisco starts, and Harry is really going to lose his mind if Cisco tries to downplay his role now. Harry pinches his hip. “Ow. Hey. I don’t like being pinched, for one.”

 

“So Vibe doesn’t like it rough.” Harry soothes the pinch with a kiss. Cisco sighs. Harry noses along, drags his tongue over Cisco’s skin, soft, wet, until Cisco’s thighs are shaking for him again. “What do you want? You can have anything. I’ll do anything you want.”

 

But that’s not a fantasy. Cisco has Harry wrapped so tightly and he doesn’t even know it.

 

Cisco swallows, hard. He cups Harry’s face. “I want it - like you’d do it for someone you loved.”

 

Harry unravels inside. He curls his hands around Cisco’s hips, harder than normal, more desperate, and licks Cisco from base to tip. He’s slow. Methodical. Lush and gentle and everything that makes Cisco crazy. 

 

He sucks at the pink head of Cisco’s dick, curling his hand around the skin his tongue can’t touch. Cisco curses again. Pets at Harry’s cheeks. Moans his name.

 

When Harry’s knees start to ache, he swallows Cisco down, soaking in Cisco’s long, low groan. He runs his nails down the front of Cisco’s thighs, light enough to give Cisco chills and nothing more. 

 

He looks up and has to grip Cisco tight when he finds Cisco watching him. Cisco’s eyes are blown and his mouth is soft and open. Standing there, wrecked, still in the trappings of a hero, makes Harry’s spine curl. He works his tongue along the underside of Cisco and hollows his cheeks. 

 

“Harry. Or whatever I’m supposed to call you. I, ah, I’m gonna - ”

 

Harry goes faster. His jaw is tight and the insides of his cheeks are numb. He’s pushed further past aching than this; the discomfort doesn’t bother him, not when Cisco’s pleasure is just at the tip of his tongue. But he’s impatient. He wants his hero to cry out for him, to spill, to fall apart completely under his touch.

 

All the tell tale signs unravel. Cisco shakes, and his breath comes harder, and he starts slurring Harry’s name like it’s the only word he knows. Harry sucks him dry.

 

Harry only eases off when Cisco starts to whine. He licks along Cisco’s skin, drawing Cisco’s shivers, and laves over the head again until Cisco has to physically step back.

 

“Jesus, dude.” Cisco scrubs his hands over his face then looks down at Harry, bright smile blinding. “That was - wow. I didn’t realize watching me be a kickass superhero did it for you like that.”

 

“Yeah. Well.” 

 

Cisco’s still grinning as he pulls his pants back up. Harry feels awkwardness settle into his bones. His knees hurt against the hard concrete. His cock hurts, zipper of his pants biting against the heavy flesh. He runs his palms along his thighs.

 

Then Cisco is dropping in front of him, bringing them face to face. He holds the back of Harry’s head and pulls him into a deep kiss. 

 

“So, guess it’s time for me to hold my end of the deal, right?”

 

Harry blinks. 

 

“You got me off,” Cisco says, licking his lips. “Now it’s your turn.”


	2. cynco + "take a risk, sweetheart"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pairing: cynco  
> prompt: "take a risk, sweetheart"  
> chapter warnings: dom/sub undertones, dom!cindy, first date, oral sex. set before s4.
> 
> THIS NOW HAS A VERY BEAUTIFUL AND AMAZING PODFIC CREATED BY LEGEND ICON STAR KD_HEART. LISTEN TO IT [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951857). YOU WILL BE VERY FLUSTERED.

Cisco looks good in a tux. There's nothing dangerous about telling him, so Cindy doesn't bother resisting. 

 

“You clean up pretty,” she tells him, appreciating the stretch of dress pants around his thighs. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

The brightness on his face dims. She hates to be another shadow against his light. But she has a job to do, a murderer to catch, and she can't afford Cisco distracting her. The people she's trying to bring justice can't wait any longer. 

 

“I vibed you,” Cisco admits. “I saw you at this casino, all dressed up, and I thought this was pleasure. Not business.”

 

She sighs. “It is. There's a mobster here running crime syndicates on two earth's. This is as far as I've tracked him.”

 

“I can help. I'm here, and I'm dressed for Bond like undercover escapades, and I owe you for dropping in.”

 

“You want to go undercover with me to track a murderer?”

 

“I mean. This isn't exactly how I’d want to have our first date. But since you keep saying no to one - ”

 

“This is your idea of a date?”

 

He blinks at her. “You're telling me it's not yours?”

 

She tries not to smile - it is - but he reads it before she can anchor herself back into her professionalism. 

 

It doesn't have to be a date. It can be another hang out, as Cisco calls it. She still doesn't know if she can quite be what he needs. The sadness that clings to him is softer than what she's known, but it runs as deep. Crueler, maybe. She's not as sure as he is that she can replace all he's lost. 

 

When he offers her his arm, though, she takes it. Cisco can handle himself. Her dad never has to know.

 

-

 

They don't find her guy. By the time they've breached into all the locked offices and suites, trying to vibe on anything that looks like it may be connected to the crime ring, and pretending to kiss in hallways to protect their cover, she can feel her target has moved on. 

 

It's frustrating, but not a frustration she doesn't know. Cisco suggests she take it out on the Blackjack table. 

 

“Your earth’s gambling is stupid,” she tells him when she loses her third game in a row and more chips are taken from her. The last time she gambled, she won a chest of rubies and a life debt. “And lame. What's the point if the loser doesn't die?”

 

“Well it's just good luck on your part, considering your current streak, darling.”

 

She bites her lip not to smile but feels the flush of Cisco’s affection on her cheeks. She knows she started it. The first time a guard had caught them breaching out of an office and she’d called him baby. Just to protect their cover. She'd ignored the dumb mushy way it made her mouth feel, but didn't miss Cisco's thrill. 

 

In an effort to hide the effect, she tells the woman to deal her in again. She hits until she's told she's at 18. Cisco's adrenaline is rolling in warm waved against her exposed skin. She can feel his excitement, gentle and clean but unyielding. He buzzes with it, with his adoration for her, and she shakes along with it as always. 

 

He doesn't realize he projects this energy. She could tell him. Train him not to spill all those messy, sticky sweet feelings between them. Keep his want and his warmth to himself. She hasn't. 

 

“I wouldn't risk it,” a man says next to her. He has a cruel tilt to his eyes and a roughness to his face that makes her want to slap it. She doesn't want it on her. She especially doesn't want it on Cisco. 

 

“Maybe you wouldn't,” she tells him, glaring. 

 

“But she would,” Cisco says next to her, radiating bright and only for her to feel. He smiles at her as he leans in, whispering hot in her ear. “Show him. Take a risk, sweetheart.”

 

He’s not talking about the cards. Cindy knows it the same way she knows the heat his closeness jolts through her. 

 

“Hit me,” she says, and wins.

 

-

 

There was an empty suite they found on their search. Cisco suggests they check it out again. 

 

Cindy thinks of suggesting one of the offices, unlocked and shades half pulled, where no one could see her pin his squishy face between her hands and suck bruises on his neck. But she takes Cisco's hand instead. Something about him makes it hard not to thread their fingers together, makes it hard to let go. 

 

They step out of the breach in unison. There's a bed, but Cindy's rolling for high stakes, so she puts what she's been trying not to dream about on the table and pulls Cisco by his tie to a low island. He stares at her, unsure but absolutely ready to give her what she wants. She doesn't even need to vibe it - all of his want, all of his affection for her, beats on his soft face. 

 

She jumps on the island, yanking him by his jacket between her legs. He licks his lips. She can feel his hands tremble when she brings them to her chest. 

 

“I only have 30 minutes before my boss expects a report,” she says, not kissing him, not yet. “Make it quick.”

 

He grins as wide as the multiverse. “Yes ma’am.”

 

He kisses her, or she kisses him. They're sliding together hot and panting and she could do this for longer than she will ever have time. He makes soft, wet noises against her, happy and desperate. She likes him like this. 

 

Before she's ready to stop nipping those little moans from him, he's dropping to his knees. He looks up at her, still smiling, like he's the lucky one. She runs her nails over his scalp and his eyes drift closed. 

 

He doesn't waste any time, taking her at her word, and she feels a deeper sense of satisfaction than just the promise of his mouth. His fingers push her dress up, just enough, and it's both disappointing - she wants to watch him, the faces he makes, the way he looks against her - and hot enough to make her spread her thighs wider. 

 

The sound he makes when he licks over her panties is louder than her own. Like he's been craving this just as much as she has. It makes her grip his hair tighter, ache a little deeper for just a little more time. 

 

He’s so - eager for it. All of it. All of her, tender pieces that want to hold his hand on the sidewalk as much as she wants to pin his hands down and kiss him breathless in front of his little team again. 

 

After a few more teasing touches, he pulls her panties to the side, too hungry for her to even work them off, and licks inside.

 

It's so good. Hot and wet and sure, starving. He keeps moaning against her skin like she's something divine. She spreads her legs as far as she can, pushing herself forward, getting as much of his clever tongue as she can.

 

He doesn't tease. He licks firm, long strokes across her. She lets her head fall back, her eyes close, losing herself in the sound of him against her, the sound of how good it is for him, each gut wrenching flutter of pleasure. 

 

Then he licks down, further, tonguing at where she's wettest, aches the deepest. It's stuns a low, deep moan from her throat. She swears and pulls him deeper. 

 

He fucks his tongue in and out in steady strokes, groaning like he can feel her fluttering around his dick. She doesn't think he can, but she's never slept with someone who can vibe. 

 

The possibilities, when they have more time, could be endless. 

 

His thumb sweeps against her clit and she gasps, arches into it on instinct. She can feel the pleasure of giving her pleasure roll down his spine. 

 

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, urging his tongue back where she's throbbing for it the deepest. “I'm so close.”

 

He doesn't say anything, just goes back to flicking his tongue over her in strokes aimed only to make her come. She should've figured he would be like this. Perfect. Tempting her to say something soft, tell him how perfect his mouth is, how good he looks on his knees. 

 

When he slides one finger inside, easy as anything because she's wet and open and his, it's exactly what she needs. She comes loud and shuddering, pulling his hair, saying his name. 

 

He keeps licking her through it, fingering her, until she has to nudge him away with her knee. She urges him back to his feet and pulls him in for a messy kiss. She works him out of his pants, breaking from his mouth to see him, thick and hard and flushed wet at the tip. 

 

“Cynthia.” He tries to say more but nearly chokes on the words when she rubs her thumb across his slit. 

 

“Cindy,” she tells him, to mesmerized by the absolute abandon on his face not to. “Call me Cindy. Say it when you come.”

 

He gasps fuck, then her name, then nothing but a moan when she grips him. She strokes him, watching the way his mouth falls open for a few moments before watching the way his hips pump into her touch. 

 

If they had time. God. If they had time, she would make him beg. Tremble and say please and thank you and absolutely lose his mind. 

 

But they don't. She brings her fingers to his too wet mouth and he licks them slick then looks a little like he's dying when she takes him in hand again. His forehead slips against hers and he captures her mouth again. They kiss until she can hear him breathing harder, faster, then pulls back so she can watch his mouth pant her name. 

 

There's a conveniently placed towel on the island. Cindy wipes them both clean while Cisco sways at her side. 

 

“That changed my life,” he tells her, eyes still closed. “I am, spiritually, a different man than I was 15 minutes ago.”

 

He opens his eyes to catch her smiling.

 

“Please go out with me.”

 

It's stupidly charming, the openness of his face. How much he wants her despite how ill prepared she is to give him the adoration he so clearly needs. 

 

“Pay attention, Cisco. That was a date.”

 

He blinks. Then grins. “It was?”

 

“We chased a bad guy, had the distinct possibility of getting killed, gambled in fancy clothes, then made each other come in a hotel room we didn't pay for. That's a date.”

 

“That was absolutely my favorite date.”

 

Hers too. She takes his face between her hands.

 

“I have to call my boss. But after, maybe I can breach over to yours.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

She kisses him. His smile is so sweet when she pulls back, so cute, it makes her want to push him back on his knees again.

 

“Yeah. Now you should head out. My boss won't be happy if he vibes you're around.”

 

“Bosses love me. Are you sure?”

 

“Positive. Now go.”  
  


He kisses her one last time, then gives that little wave that makes her want to stay.


	3. reversevibe + "you have been so bad, haven't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pairing: reversevibe  
> prompt: "you have been so bad, haven't you?"  
> chapter warnings: the inherent noncon/dubcon nature of any relationship between cisco and eobard before the eowells reveal, eobard being a creepy dick as usual, dom/sub undertones, masturbation. set s1.

It’s not like Cisco doesn’t know it was a fucked up thing to do. He’s aware that it was a violation to slip into Dr. Wells sheets after he left for a conference. Cisco has been so grateful for all the support and kindness Wells has shown since the Rouges, and he understands pressing his face to Wells pillow while jerking off in Wells bed was not the appropriate way to show said gratitude. It was a weird, bad thing to do.

The only consolation was that Dr. Wells would never, ever know. Cisco had washed all the sheets in the house, played it off as another thankful gesture, in the same vein of helpful gratitude as making dinner the past few nights and doing the dishes. He’d been keeping his hands to himself and not starring in obvious, shameful thirst at Wells in his grey sweatpants. Not even a genius like Dr. Wells would’ve been able to read the slight tremble in his fingers or the heat that was still rubbing his cheeks raw.

Cisco would’ve been in the clear. He could’ve lived forever without Wells knowing the desperate mess Cisco made in his bed. He could’ve died free of the shame.

If he’d just kept his dumb mouth shut.

“I want you to show me exactly what you did,” Wells tells him, voice as soft as his knuckles stroking down Cisco’s neck. He’s stripped down to his black undershirt and boxers and lays on his side, glasses still on, eyes sharp where his touch is gentle. “I want to see exactly how bad you were.”

Cisco burns. He couldn’t have just nodded when Wells asked if he’d had a good day. He had to say yes, he’d been good, and then he’d had to nearly choke on his own shame when Wells raised an eyebrow, and then in the chaos of humiliation and lust still knocking his brain around, he just had to admit it. Just had to tell the truth out loud. He hadn’t been good at all.

“I wasn’t naked,” Cisco tells him.

Wells seems to consider this. “I’ll allow for minor changes.”

“You weren’t here.” Cisco wrestles off his own undershirt before pushing his boxers down. He’s clinging to attitude, trying to pretend he’s not as needy as he really is. Wells is breathing focused and calm and Cisco can feel his hunger leaking out of him. Not that Wells doesn’t know what a mess he is already. “That’s a huge variable.”

“Cisco. Please. You’ll make me blush.”

The tease eases Cisco’s heart. He can feel the tension in his muscles give way to a tremble. This is happening. This is happening and it’s skin instead of formulas, brushing bodies instead of just fingers in the lab, a different weight of chemical between them, but this is still them. Cisco can find his breath in that.

He lays down on his side. Wells tucks a strand of hair behind his ears and he can feel them burn.

“How did you start?”

Cisco’s entire body feels tight. Coiled and compact and ready to combust. He’s never had anyone want to watch him before. It goes to head as desperately as it goes to his gut. He presses himself face first into the bed, breathing in at the same time Wells exhales.

“That’s it, Cisco. Show me.”

Cisco clenches his teeth, focusing on the scent of Wells cologne and skin and detergent. He’d gotten drunk off it this morning. It’s even more intoxicating now; he can hear Wells wanting him, feel Wells watching him, feel the heat rolling off Wells body in waves.

He rubs his cheek against the pillow, knowing he must look like an animal. He feels like an animal. Soft and hungry in all of his need.

Pushing his hips up, he feels a little disconnected from his own body. He pumps against the sheets, groaning, because they’re even softer now that he’s washed them. It drags a pleasure just as deep along his skin.

He rolls against the cool, smooth pressure. Keeps his face burrowed in Wells scent and his focus on the bed beneath him instead of the man at his side. Adrenaline has him jerky and heart heavy, but he wants to put on a good show. He needs to.

Wells releases another heavy breath. It gives Cisco all he needs to turn his head, eyes closed, mouth open, vulnerable to whatever Wells wants from this. He releases every noise he was scared to emit even alone. He ruts with more abandon, feeling Wells gaze urging him to roll his hips in a frenzy. His fingers claw at the sheets.

“Did you finish like this?” Wells asks, sounding almost awed.

Cisco bites his lip. “No. Just started. Wanted to take my time.”

There’s a crinkle of sheets and when Cisco manages to open his eyes, Wells has leaned closer. It’s a victory if Cisco has ever earned one. A thrill curls his spine and he rubs himself harder into the mattress.

“You really were desperate,” Wells says. “What did you do next? When you couldn’t take the tease anymore?”

Next had been wrapping his hand around his dick, but that hadn’t been until Cisco had let his mind twist around half a dozen fantasies. Wells underneath him. Wells above him. Wells miraculously regaining use of his legs and sliding behind him. Wells walking in, finding him making a pathetic mess on the bed, and replacing Cisco’s touch with his own.

“I can take it for a lot longer than this.”

Cisco looks at Wells again, only to find him seemingly unimpressed by the bravado.

Wells reaches out, hand coming to rest just above where Cisco's fingers are tangled in the sheets. Not touching. Cisco wants to reach for him but doesn't know if he should. If he can.

“You were so bad earlier, Cisco.” The words make Cisco squirm more than they should. His skin buzzes less with shame than with anticipation. Then Wells touches him - just the backs of his knuckles, brushing over Cisco’s own. It’s practically nothing but it hurts so much Cisco wants to cry. “Be good for me now. Make it up to me. Touch yourself.”

It’s not like Cisco wants to say no. His body moves like Wells low tones are hooked directly into his circuits. He gets on his side, curling a hand around himself, and moans.

“Good,” Wells rasps. He’s still running his touch along Cisco’s other hand.

Cisco tries to keep his grip loose. His breathing even. His mind focused and blank and not frantic under Wells attention. It’s a little uncomfortable, butterfly pinned under Wells gaze, but it’s more thrilling. Cisco feels like something powerful.

“What were you thinking about?”

That makes Cisco nearly choke on his tongue. His first urge is to hiss _you, obviously_ but he licks his lips instead. He’d indulged in every fantasy that had ever crossed his mind. Wells pressing behind him in his workshop. Wells pulling him on his lap so he could grind Wells into a frenzy in that chair. Wells what feels like a million years ago, before the explosion, pulling him in for a deep kiss in front of their team to show that Cisco belonged there.

Wells takes - not pity on him, or mercy, but gives into something soft and strokes tender over Cisco’s jaw. Cisco thinks of tilting into the touch. Thinks of turning his head to lick over Wells fingertips, suck them between his lips.

“Did you think about me finding you? Helping you finish?” Cisco opens his eyes to find Wells smiling down at him, endeared. “Punishing you like this? Is that why you told me?”

Cisco takes a gulping breath as he twitches in his own hand. The pleasure hot build up is starting its climb up his spine. His toes flex against the electricity. He tightens his grip, fucking into his own fist, and Wells grips his hand. Cisco gives in. All of his messy need tumbles out of his open mouth. He makes some sound he’s never heard himself make and jerks himself faster and tongues Wells fingers.

Wells groans. “I shouldn’t touch you,” he breathes. “It was punishment you wanted, wasn’t it? It won’t discourage you at all if I touch you right now.”

Cisco pants away from Wells fingers. He squeezes the base of his dick to not finish at Wells tone, Wells pleasure. “I’m still not discouraged. Like. At all. Just so you know.”

Wells laughs. It’s not a particularly kind sound. But then Wells also shifts, as much as he can, and brings his mouth to Cisco’s jaw.

“I suppose if I’ve already failed, there’s no reason not to indulge myself.”

And Cisco likes that - being an indulgence. Being something Wells can’t stay away from.

They kiss for the first time, which Cisco realizes is backwards. He can’t be bothered when Wells licks into his mouth and wraps his hand around Cisco’s, guiding Cisco to jack himself off with slow, steady strokes.

“Dr. Wells.” Cisco hates how slurred his voice is, like he’s drunk off Wells tongue, but he can’t help it. He grips Wells shirt with his other hand. He wants to touch, wants to know if Wells skin is soft, if its hot, where he can make Wells groan. His fingers scrape down Wells chest, hovering before they slip under his shirt, skirt along his belly then lower. “Dr. Wells, can I - ”

“Whatever you want, Cisco. And call me - you can call me Harrison.”

Cisco gets a desperate hand under Wells - Harrison’s - black briefs. When he finally closes his fingers around Wells - Harrison, Christ, Cisco’s never heard anyone get to call him Harrison before - they both moan.

“You feel good,” Cisco tells him, unable to stop telling Wells everything he thinks, even here. “Is this good? How you like it?”

Wells kisses him again. “It’s good. You’re good, Cisco.” A kiss to his jaw and he trembles at the touch, the words. “Just a little faster.”

Cisco removes his hand to lick his palm and fingers, make his grip slick, then takes Wells back between his fingers. He could swear Wells thrusts into it but it’s a trick of his lust tripping brain. Wells cradles his jaw.

Then Wells urges him faster, too, and it’s too much. Cisco makes a mess over both of their hands. Wells pulls their fingers to Cisco’s lips and moans again about good Cisco is when he takes the hint and sucks their skin clean. Cisco moves as quickly as he can at the awkward angle. It works for Wells, eventually. Cisco watches his face when he comes.

Cisco isn’t actually sure what he’s expecting, afterwards. Awkwardness, for sure, and that saturates the moment. He wonders if he should slip out of Wells bed. If he should leave Wells house. Now that the heat of the moment has passed, is Wells going to realize he’s more pissed than turned on?

Wells breaks Cisco’s mini panic with a kiss to his forehead. “Give me a hand, Cisco.”

Cisco laughs, a little breathless. But he does help Wells pull his wet boxers off his legs, then helps him peel his shirt off.

“We should’ve done this first,” Cisco says. “I’m disappointed in both of us.”

“We know for next time, then.”

Cisco settles into Wells side. When he curls an arm low around Wells stomach, Wells doesn’t push him away. “Next time?”

“I assumed you would like a next time. If I assumed wrong - ”

“You didn’t.”

Wells smiles. It’s small and tight. Cisco decides to read it as a good sign, and rests his head on Wells chest.


	4. hrisco + "you're perfect"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter pairing: hrisco  
> prompt: "you're perfect"  
> chapter warnings: dorks who like each other a whole lot, fluff, getting together, praise kink, oral sex. set s3. no one dies!

“It’s perfect,” HR breathes, eyes child wide and innocent as he takes in the hologram Cisco updated. It had been weird, working on an AI of himself, but the smile HR directs at him eases any lingering awkwardness. His excitement has started to border on infectious instead of just annoying. “You’re perfect, Francisco.”

 

The familiar heat that follows such earnest praise creeps up Cisco’s spine. He pushes his hair behind his hair in an effort to disrupt its spread. HR cups his shoulders in light touch. Cisco isn’t shy under the shine, just unprepared, and he looks away.

 

“I was a dick.”

 

“It happens to the best of us. You’re already forgiven.”

 

“But I wouldn’t exactly call myself perfect.”

 

Cisco’s not proud of basically making the guy cry. Lashing out at Harry for leaving, at Eobard for leaving, with harsh words against their somehow more irritating doppleganger wasn’t his finest moment. HR seems to forget with ease. He’s been nothing but grins and quick, happy embraces and cappuccinos all day. Cisco accepts it, grateful, and figures he has earned it. But he’s definitely not -

 

“But I would.” HR is still touching him. “You probably wouldn’t believe this, but you’re not the first person who’s thought I was an irritation.”

 

It hurts Cisco for him, a little, when HR’s smile dims. “I just - ”

 

“It’s okay. You’re one of the first people to actually apologize. And what an apology it is.” HR turns to his side, gripping him with one arm around his shoulder, fingers tight but not bruising on his skin. “Look at this. It’s absolutely perfect, Francisco. Just like you.”

 

-

 

HR’s fingers are gentle as he tilts Cisco’s chin up. He’s still chattering about the magnificence of his novel’s illustrator, how she will do wonders to capture Cisco’s beauty in the new cover art she’s sketching. Cisco listens, smiling. 

 

“Ah, just there. You’re perfect.”

 

Cisco doesn’t flush. HR keeps throwing that word around, just as easy as he offers adoration and cups of coffee. But Cisco’s fingers do twitch. Heat does settle nicely in his belly. His chest does loosen. 

 

“How many more pictures do you think you’ll need to send her?” Cisco asks as HR takes his camera back in hand. It’s the one piece of technology Cisco’s seen him operate with any level of success. He tries not to shift when HR moves to face him. “Haven’t you gotten that angle?”

 

“She needs a library of references. Your beauty is - layered, Francisco. It can be overwhelming. Having this many options will make it easier for her to bring it to life.”

 

Cisco laughs, awkward. HR frowns. Up close, even his wrinkles don’t carry the same coldness as Harry’s anger or Eobard’s cruelty. There’s still something gentle in the way HR watches him. Curious and bright and soft. HR barely even looks like them. 

 

“I wasn’t joking.”

 

“I know.” Cisco shifts and rolls his neck, fucking up HR’s careful positioning. “Sorry.”

 

HR hooks the camera around his neck. “Here,” he says, and Cisco isn’t sure what he’s doing until warm palms slide over the first knobs of his spine. “You’ve been holding that position for a while. How does that feel?”

 

“Good,” Cisco stutters, breathier than he intended. HR’s palms pause. Only for a second. “You don’t have to - oh, sweet baby Jesus.”

 

Thumbs dig into twin masses of tension. Cisco melts into a barely standing, wobbling thing. HR clicks his tongue and increases the pressure, massaging away all the pain of slumping over gear this morning and taking down a meta the night before. 

 

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to. As a thank you for being such an outstanding model.”

 

Cisco’s head lulls forward when HR rubs his elbows just between the ache of Cisco’s shoulder blades. “I wasn’t that good of a model. I kept moving.”

 

HR leans in - just so Cisco can hear him more clearly, Cisco is sure. His breath is warm against the shivers in Cisco’s neck. 

 

“You’re a great model. Absolutely perfect.”

 

-

 

HR takes the cup Cisco offers without looking up from his crossword. He sips it with a moan that borders on obscene. When Cisco looks around the office, no one else has seemed to notice. Wally is talking excitedly to Barry and Iris, while Julian leans over Caitlin’s shoulder, reading something on her laptop.

 

“Thank you, Francisco. You always know what I need. You’re perfect.”

 

Cisco has the urge to roll his eyes. The embarrassment that used to flare along with the words has cooled, but there’s still something to them that makes Cisco’s heart roll. He hides it with exasperation. He’s suspicious that HR sees right through him; that HR knows Cisco looks away and warms not because he doesn’t like the affection. 

 

Instead Cisco runs a hand through HR’s hair, leaving it messy and out of place. 

 

HR stares up at him, mouth open in shock, for several seconds before launching himself at Cisco’s own hair. Cisco yelps before he runs. He could breach, save himself in moments, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun as HR chasing him around the room while the rest of the team lose it.

 

It certainly wouldn’t be as fun as HR catching him just outside the little room HR’s claimed for himself. HR gets surprisingly strong arms around his middle. Cisco can’t even surge forward to break the hold. He’s glad he’s already panting and flushed - HR won’t realize it’s from anything other than the chase. 

 

-

 

Their first date is, in HR’s own words, “Perfect.”

 

Cisco breaches them to a world where his novels are being produced into a blockbuster trilogy. He’s more upset than Cisco imagined he would be at the lack of thematic and emotional explorations, but he approves of his character’s casting. 

 

HR picks the restaurant. Despite the differences in all of their Earth’s, he manages to find a bistro under the stars. Soft music plays and they eat off each other’s plates and when the bill with a total in some other language appears, they run through the city until their lungs burn.

 

They fine a park. The signs say public but no one is there. A waterfull runs in the middle and the grass is lush enough for them to lay side by side and name their own constellations.

 

When HR kisses him, it’s gentle. Warm, too, under the sweet smelling air. Cisco lets himself soak it all to the bone before he kisses back. It is, actually, perfect.

 

-

 

HR’s hips stutter against Cisco’s cheek. Cisco presses a kiss to the v, following the line with his tongue. When he finally, finally brushes his lips against HR’s dick, HR’s hands curl in his hair. “Oh, perfect, that’s - you feel so perfect, you’re perfect, Cisco.”

 

His bed is the only place HR doesn’t use his nickname. Well, not the only place. HR’s lab cot and Cisco’s workshop and one very fancy castle suite on Earth 12. Cisco’s never asked why.

 

He lets HR tug him closer, taking all of HR’s want as deep as he can. His tongue curls to keep up with HR’s thrusts. His own stomach pulses in time with the way HR moves and moans and praises him. 

 

Cisco runs his hands along HR’s thighs, nails scraping light, just the way HR likes it, and sucks. He’s twitching against the bed sheets and wants to rub himself off, at least into some sense of relief. When he does, HR pulls him back.

 

He can feel his mouth glistening, spit slick, and he peers up through his lashes into HR’s pleasure slack gaze. “Why’d you stop me?” 

 

HR licks his lips. “Come here.”

 

He lets HR urge him upwards. Stretched over HR’s lean heat, Cisco doesn’t resist the urge to slide their hips together. 

 

“I want to taste you,” HR says against his mouth. “Suck you while you suck me. It’ll be perfect.”

 

Cisco kisses his agreement against HR’s neck. There’s the bite of self-conciousness in his spine as he lets HR press him down, as HR’s hands pet over his legs, encouraging him into position. He wants to tell HR to close his eyes until their side by side. Instead he focuses on licking HR into a frenzy.

 

HR scrapes his nails over Cisco’s scalp before sinking his touch into the backs of Cisco’s thighs, pushing him forward. Cisco nearly chokes on a moan when HR swallows him from head to base in one hot, slick movement. 

 

It makes Cisco’s breath stop. Flutter and start back up in a whirlwind. HR’s heat in his mouth feels even better, now. Silk soft and heady and fat enough to make Cisco’s jaw ache. The sore of it feels good when HR sucks him, teasing slow and steady. 

 

Cisco makes himself slow to HR’s tender rhythm. He wants to just fuck into HR’s moans and suck pleasure from HR’s cock. He wants them both to fall over the edge, now, but he knows it’s better to follow HR’s lead in this. HR knows what he’s doing here, how to wring the most out of every safe moment they have together. Cisco is more than happy to let HR work his skin into a buzz and his heart into overdrive.

 

HR palms at his ass. Tongues at the head of his dick. Thrusts into Cisco’s open throat. Cisco takes everything with heavy moans. He’s so ready to come but he doesn’t want stop licking each other, tasting and touching. It’s good. It’s so good. It’s - 

 

“Cisco.” HR drags his nails over Cisco’s hips. “Cisco, you feel so good. So perfect. How are you - yes, like that. Perfect.”

 

It drives Cisco’s head into a frenzy. All he wants to do is keep pulling that word from HR’s mouth through his dick. He wants HR to keep panting it, keep meaning it. 

 

Cisco sucks HR through trembles, through more moaned out perfect’s, through HR coming with Cisco’s name on his lips. He keeps tasting until HR eases away with a hurt sound.

 

HR recovers quickly. Cisco doesn’t know if it’s an Earth 19 thing. But HR can finish then wind himself back to the starting line within moments. He’s recovered enough already to pin Cisco’s hips to the mattress and devote his full energy to sucking Cisco off. 

 

Cisco lets HR take care of him. He pets at the back of HR’s head and watches through heavy lidded eyes and lets HR do everything he knows Cisco likes. It’s hot and quick. Cisco’s toes are curling against HR in minutes.

 

HR kisses his way back to Cisco’s mouth. They’re lying upside down on the bed, which strikes Cisco into a laugh. HR laughs with him. Keeps their kiss up. 

 

HR grins down at him. “You really are - ”

 

Cisco kisses the words out of his mouth. Before HR can react, Cisco strokes his fingers over HR’s cheeks. 

 

“You’re perfect,” Cisco whispers.

 

“I’m not - ”

 

“You are for me.” Cisco kisses him, open but gentle. 

 

HR presses their foreheads together. “Okay. I’ll take that.”


	5. harrisco + "you need to stop, sweetheart. you're going to get yourself into trouble."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pairing: harrisco  
> prompt: "you need to stop, sweetheart. you're going to get yourself into trouble." + "you're playing a very dangerous game."  
> chapter tags/warnings: established relationship, teasing, oral sex, slight exhibitionism/semi-public sex.
> 
> [NOW WITH A SPANISH TRANSLATION BY TUMBLR USER HARRYXXXCISCO!!!!!!](https://www.wattpad.com/578150096-harrisco-%c2%b7oneshots%c2%b7-1-tentaciones)

Cisco twirls around in his desk chair, bubble gum lollipop secured between his teeth. He spins, carefree, fully aware of Harry’s suffering. He hums.

Harry watches Cisco’s shoes skirt the floor until he feels dizzy. It’s less disorienting than Cisco sucking on bright red candy. The sucker stains Cisco’s mouth sticky and sweet. Harry keeps biting his tongue, slipping his fingers over Cisco’s goggles, reminding himself he’s not going to lose. Not this time.

After what must be the thousandth spin, Harry’s nails scrape on the gear and his ego buckles. He stomps in front of Cisco and curls his hands around the chair’s arms. When he leans in, scowl bared, Cisco grins.

“You need to stop, sweetheart,” Harry breathes, revealing his hand even as he grits the words. The nickname is Cisco’s weakness. Cisco’s mouth is one of Harry’s. “You’re gonna get yourself into trouble.”

Cisco pops the candy out of his mouth. Harry’s struck by the red of his tongue when he speaks. “Sounds like you’re on track for your next loss. I thought you were gonna take the whole thing this time?”

Harry clenches his jaw. He hates this game. First one to touch the other loses, and Harry’s never won - although really, he’s never lost, either.

“I thought your workshop was a sacred place. We aren’t supposed to defile it.”

“Say the word and we can breach back to my bed. Or my shower.”

Harry pushes the chair away. Cisco slides the sucker back between his lips and Harry slips his hands into his pockets.

-

The rest of the day is twizzlers and bubble gum. Harry knew he shouldn’t have taken Cisco to Earth 2 just to buy packs in bulk, but Cisco had been so excited, and Harry could only tease him for so long.

Cisco doesn’t have the same difficulty.

He’s cruel. Turning his mouth candy apple bright and laughing at Dibny’s stupid everything and curling his hair around his finger, the same way he’s got Harry’s attention wrapped tight. Harry shoves his fingers under his thigh at one point just to keep from yanking a piece of sweet from Cisco’s mouth. He fantasizes about replacing the next blow pop with his dick and misses Caitlin talking to him for a good fifteen minutes.

-

It’s dinner time before Harry breaks. He tells himself it’s just as respectable as winning.

-

Harry loses where his doom began: in Cisco’s workshop. He crowds Cisco against the open doorway, one hand fisted next to Cisco’s head and the other palming the soft, warm skin of his neck. Cisco is smiling hot red.

“You put up a good fight,” Cisco murmurs against his lips. “Looks like you’re the one in trouble.”

It’s an effort but Harry slides from the kiss. “You cheated. It wasn’t a fair game.”

Cisco frowns. “I always cheat.” He leans in for a kiss again. Harry nips at his bottom lip.

“Then you shouldn’t always get your prize.”

Harry stands his ground, not giving in to the temptation to kiss the pout off Cisco’s full mouth. He may have lost the game, but he’s going to win this war. At least make good on his promise. Show Cisco just how much trouble he’s gotten himself in.

Cisco tries to cheat again. He rubs their cheeks together and speaks low. “I was gonna breach us home. Suck you off on the couch, just how you like it.”

And Harry does like it, because it’s Cisco, who peers up through his lashes and makes exaggerated moans that go straight to Harry’s need. But that’s too easy and Harry is too eager to make Cisco lose it to just hand himself over. Harry wants to tease him, make him squirm and pant, play him to the softest notes, the way Cisco always does to him.

So Harry kisses Cisco’s neck, open mouthed and soft, the way that makes Cisco moan and lean in to him. When Cisco gives in, Harry pulls away.

“New game. Since you’re a cheater, you forfeit, and I get to do whatever I want to you.”

Cisco licks his candy lips. Harry wants to do the same but holds his ground.

“What do you want to do to me?”

“Just make you feel good,” Harry says against Cisco’s skin. “Right here. Door open. Think you can be quiet enough that no one will hear?”

Cisco’s head falls against the wall. His skin is hot under Harry’s mouth and his breath is heavy. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes Harry’s blood rush. Harry’s never asked for this before; now he wonders if all of Cisco’s high pitched fits about not touching in the workshop was another one of his goads. Irritating Harry into doing exactly what Cisco wants.

Passive aggressive brat, Harry thinks, affection making his chest tight.

“What if I don’t think I can be quiet?” Cisco asks softly.

Harry kisses him. Cisco kisses back.

They unravel pretty quickly after that, despite Cisco’s question going unanswered. Both of them are keyed up from a day of Cisco’s ridiculous teasing. Harry gets Cisco’s skinny jeans undone while Cisco’s clever fingers pull his cargos down. Cisco makes a sound when he sees Harry isn’t wearing briefs. Harry swallows it.

Harry doesn’t waste time getting either of them fully undressed. He just gets one hand under Cisco’s shirt, scraping his nails over smooth skin, and wraps his other hand around both of them.

When Cisco curses under his breath and reaches for Harry, though, Harry removes the fingers rubbing over Cisco’s nipp;e to push Cisco’s wrist against the wall.

“You lost, sweetheart. I get to do whatever I want to you now.”

“That doesn’t include me touching your dick?” Cisco whines.

He moves his hips into Harry’s grip, gasping, and Harry welcomes the wave of triumph that crashes low in his belly. Cisco loves when Harry pins him, when Harry holds his manic energy and stills them both with want.

Harry gathers Cisco’s other hand, lacing their fingers together before placing it on the other side of Cisco’s head. He kisses Cisco deep but gentle, reminding himself to stay soft soft soft, reminding Cisco that even like this, holding him down and rutting against him like an animal, Harry knows he’s precious.

Then Harry slides their cocks together. It’s hot and rough and not nearly enough friction but Harry’s head spins. Cisco rocks forward with a groan.

“Love it when you get like this,” Cisco groans. Harry buries his face into Cisco’s neck, hiding all the gentle, hot things that rush at Cisco’s panted praise. “Do it, Harry, whatever you want. You can have it.”

With effort Harry releases Cisco’s wrist, bringing his hand to Cisco’s mouth. He can’t resist slipping his thumb between those flush lips. Cisco licks at him, eyes open and wide with want. Harry pulls away with a heavy breath.

“Get us wet.”

It will take half a bottle of hand sanitizer for Harry to feel clean after this, but in the moment, when Cisco spits into his palm then licks his fingers slick, Harry only cares about the visual. The visceral, obscene beauty of Cisco doing what Harry wants.

Harry rewards both of them by coating their dicks with a sure, firm grip. Cisco bucks into the touch. Moans with loss and with pleasure when Harry resumes his slow but steady thrusts. There’s no pressure or whine for more; Cisco just takes whatever Harry gives him, takes it happy and flushed and lovely. Harry’s fingers tighten around his.

They could do this until both of their knees were weak. Harry’s tempted. But he’s also an impatient man, when it comes down to it, when it comes to Cisco. He watches them slide together before leaning in for another kiss.

“I want to suck you.”

Cisco shakes when Harry licks at his lips. “Harry, I can’t be quiet if you do that.”

“Told you that you were going to get yourself into trouble,” Harry breathes. “Only if you say yes. We can stay - like this, just like this, if you want.”

Harry doesn’t tease. He keeps pumping his hips, their slick cocks sliding slow and perfect together, and he’s happy to keep fucking forward until they both fall apart. But he wants - if he could have anything, it would be Cisco moaning into pieces under Harry’s tongue.

“I want your mouth,” Cisco admits. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Do you really - ”

“Yes.”

Cisco grins a little at Harry’s eager answer. He bites his lip when Harry curls a hand around his hip.

“Okay. Yes.”

Harry noses at his cheek. “Okay? Yes? That’s all the winner gets?”

Cisco rolls his eyes - but he gives Harry what he’s craving. “I want it, Harry, yes. I want you to suck me right now. I need it. Please.”

Harry goes to his knees. Cisco keeps his hands by his head and the picture pretty makes Harry’s mouth go a little dry.

He pulls every trick he knows to get Cisco moaning and panting and fucking into his mouth. Uses his tongue and his hands to make Cisco crazy. At one point, Cisco bites his own knuckles to keep quiet. Harry would admonish him, let me hear you sweetheart, but the sight settles like lit coals on Harry’s bones. Anchoring and burning. Hot.

It doesn’t take long before Harry is sucking noises that anyone within the vicinity could hear from Cisco’s skin. Only a few more desperate moments before Harry is sucking Cisco’s come and after pleasure shocks down, too. He lets his mouth fall open with a gentle, pleased sigh. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of bringing Cisco to this shaken place.

“Was I too loud?” Cisco asks as Harry kisses his way back to Cisco’s lips. “Oh my God, I was so loud. Everyone heard me.”

“Lucky them.”

Cisco shoots him a mock glare. Harry licks into his mouth until Cisco grips his shoulders, embarrassment seemingly forgotten as he groans just as loud and wanton as before.

Harry runs his thumbs along Cisco’s cheeks. “I want you on your knees, sweetheart.”

Cisco grins. It’s loose with after orgasm ease and glowing. Harry doesn’t switch their positions; he just watches Cisco fall into position, steadying one palm on the wall in front of him, and curling his other hand into Cisco’s hair.

He lasts a little longer than Cisco, but he has age and the forethought to bite into his cheek, staving off his pleasure with a hint of pain. His moans flow just as freely as Cisco’s own had. Cisco was right; everyone can probably hear what a mess they’ve made of each other. It only makes Harry regret not teasing Cisco more.

Harry stops himself until he can’t. When it’s too much he gets both hands in Cisco’s soft hair and holds, fucking into Cisco’s slack mouth with a sound that would probably embarrass him if he wasn’t deep in Cisco’s heat. Cisco moans encouragingly, looking up at Harry, all gentle challenge. Harry tries to close his eyes and can’t. He watches Cisco take every last inch, swallow every last drop.

They’re both spent and panting when Cisco pushes back to his feet.

“That was - that was awesome, Harry. I’m a little weirded out by the possibility that Ralph knows what we sound like when we come, but other than that. Awesome.”

Harry ignores the words - he kind of forgot Ralph was still a thing - and kisses Cisco’s wet mouth.

“See what happens when I win?”

Cisco scoffs. “You mean when I cheat?”

They get themselves mostly presentable. Cisco’s hair is finger mused and his mouth is bitten full and bruised, the same as Harry’s own. Harry is sure his cheeks are stained pink. Whatever. The team can deal. Harry’s the one who suffered today.

Once dressed, Cisco brings his hands to Harry’s shirt, smoothing away the wrinkles. He looks into Harry’s face and smiles before trying to fix his hair, too. It doesn’t go back in place as easily as the fabric.

“I think,” Cisco says, leaning forward to tuck his head under Harry’s chin. “I’m gonna get myself into trouble more often.”

Harry laughs. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

He doesn’t, really. But he can’t wait to watch Cisco try.


	6. harrisco + "you're playing a dangerous game"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pairing: harrisco  
> prompt: "you're playing a dangerous game"  
> chapter specific tags: come play, first time, lap sitting, soft harrisco

In retrospect, Cisco is incredibly stoked the rest of the gang bowed out of family game night early.

Cecile was tired. A baby plus new meta powers that make you cheat by default take a lot out of someone, no matter how chill the evening was unwinding, and where Cecile went Joe dutifully followed. Cisco wasn’t sure why Jesse decided she needed Cisco to breach her home almost immediately after, but when he returned to his apartment, the West-Allen’s and Caitlin had dipped out, leaving Harry sprawled awkwardly on Cisco’s couch.

Harry hadn’t wanted Cisco to come home to an empty place, he’d said, and Cisco wouldn’t have wanted to either. He wasn’t really looking forward to falling asleep in one.

Harry almost always declined Cisco’s offers to stay, at least sleep on the couch instead of the Star Labs cot. Cisco suspects its because neither of them know if they’d keep their hands above the blanket. Tonight, though, Harry does take Cisco up on the Jenga challenge.

They could’ve left the shots out of it. The stripping, too. But it’s been a rough and tumble week, tacked hot and hurting to the end of another one. Cisco is tired of being Designated Superhero. Tired of pretending he’s someone he isn’t, that he doesn’t want things he does.

And now Harry is sitting across from him in a thin white shirt and black briefs, tongue poking between his lips as he pretends to concentrate on removing the game piece from its tower and not the spread of Cisco’s thighs. Despite the fact that Cisco has been reduced to his Andrew Christian’s - or maybe because he has - Cisco doesn’t have any regrets.

Harry exhales when the tower doesn’t fall. It’s an easy breath. He knows what he’s doing. The pile of his clothes folded neatly next to him doesn’t speak to Harry’s inability to undo something precisely. Everything he’s lost has been a calculation, a response to what Cisco has been willing to bare.

“Your turn, Ramon.”

Cisco aches to take another gulp of brandy. Drown all the reasons this is a bad idea in amber and jump mouth first into Harry’s open challenge. But he wants to remember every touch, every word, and he doesn’t want either of them to have any excuses in the morning.

He scoots forward, letting his legs spread, watching Harry’s fingers curl around his own knees. Cisco can’t help the smug that smooths his lips. Those little confirmations of Harry’s desire - how close Harry stands, how much Harry touches him, how Harry never does it in the presence of anyone else - are a balm and a wound all in one. Daring Cisco to breathe life into what they want. Reminding him of how easily it could burn them to ash.

But in the cool night of spring and the echoes of their family and the undercurrent of is this meta going to be the one that finally takes us, the fallout of keeping Harry’s hands on him doesn’t seem quite so terrifying as it has. Cisco drifts his fingers over the tower.

When Harry sees the piece he’s chosen, he clenches his jaw.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Cisco.” Harry says it quiet and even. It’s a warning. A chance for Cisco to slip away mostly unscratched. They could still laugh this off tomorrow while holding the tension of bared skin and bared vulnerability close to the chest.

“You have to play big to win big,” Cisco says.

Harry holds his next breath. Cisco does too. All he has to do is let it tumble down into chaos. Let go of everything he’s tried to be; good friend, good son, good hero. In control and ready to drop his guard at a moment for whoever needs him. Selfless.

He pushes the Jenga piece and it’s barely halfway from its home before the tower is crashing down.

In Cisco’s head, he imagined Harry being on him in a speedster like flurry of impatience. He pictures those hands that have sundered and healed on his cheeks. He sees Harry’s mouth slotting over his, burning him like cinnamon and summer.

But instead of an explosion, everything is still. The world goes taut and Harry looks at Cisco with all this corded, silent energy.

“Looks like I lose,” Cisco breathes, and stands.

He watches Harry watch him move. He doesn’t jump over the table and crawl into Harry’s lap like he’s half tempted, but there’s no hesitation in his steps. There’s nothing but heat in his veins when he stands between Harry’s open knees and hooks his thumbs under the band of his underwear.

“Cisco.” Harry says his name softly as his hands settle over Cisco’s own. Cisco’s cheeks throb hot when Harry’s fingers brush over his bare hip bones. “You lost on purpose, right?”

It takes a moment to sort out the shaking in Harry’s fingers. Cisco doesn’t read Harry’s vibrations, the subtle shift in molecules that mean want or fear or need, because Harry doesn’t like to be vibed on. And Cisco doesn’t need his powers to see the nerves furrowing Harry’s brow. Cisco slips his fingers from beneath Harry’s and brings them to Harry’s cheeks.

“Duh.”

Harry releases a huff of a laugh. His head dips forward, forehead warm against Cisco’s bare belly, and Cisco’s grip tightens at Harry’s breath flowing over his skin.

Then Harry presses a soft, stuttering kiss right below Cisco’s navel. Cisco shudders.

He does slide over Harry’s hips, then, boxers forgotten in the desperation to feel Harry’s mouth that gentle against his own.

“This isn’t a game,” Cisco breathes against Harry’s lips. “And I’m not playing. I don’t think you are, either.”

Harry shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes his head again. “Not playing a game.”

Cisco doesn’t think he needs to say that Harry’s caught him, so he doesn’t. He kisses Harry for the first time instead.

Harry doesn’t kiss back, exactly, but he isn’t still. His fingers sink into the softness of Cisco’s flesh and his vibrations fluctuate wild around Cisco’s body. Cisco doesn’t have to vibe to know Harry is nervous - that Harry wants this, just as much as Cisco does, and that it’s terrifying him.

Cisco kisses him more softly.

He keeps it achingly slow, gentle. Lets their hearts learn to beat in sync as their lips learn each other’s slick and smooth. It’s not until Harry’s palms spread flat over his belly and slide, curl around the narrowest part of his waist, that he licks into Harry’s mouth.

Harry grips him tighter. A low moan spills from Harry over all of Cisco’s exposed skin. It makes Cisco squirm, rock closer, which makes Cisco remember that Harry is still wearing a stupid shirt.

When he pulls away, Harry’s eyes are closed. His mouth is still open. It’s red and slick and Cisco can’t help but lean back in to kiss him one more time.

Cisco tugs at the hem of Harry’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Harry pulls the offending fabric away with soldier like efficiency. _I complete tasks_ , Cisco thinks in his inner Harry voice, and wonders what Harry would do if Cisco told him to get rid of Cisco’s boxers, too.

They run their hands over each other. Cisco’s greedy for the smooth of Harry’s chest, Harry’s abs. Harry is a little more hesitant. His fingers trail slowly over Cisco’s ribs then slide over Cisco’s nipples. Cisco groans against Harry’s mouth. Then Harry freezes.

“Don’t stop,” Cisco breathes. He angles his head back, just a little, just so he can meet Harry’s eyes. Harry’s eyes are fixated on his chest.

“I didn’t know,” Harry says, clumsy. “If that was a good sound or if you didn’t - if there were things you didn’t like.”

Cisco swallows past a sting of panic - it’s mostly nostalgia, now, the ghost of pain. He’s stood against a speeding hand without flinching, without fear. He presses Harry’s palm over his heart.

“It was a good sound.”

Harry looks up at him. It smooths Harry’s face, this angle, this awe that seems to have calmed him underneath Cisco’s touch.

“Good,” Harry breathes. He pets over Cisco’s skin again. Cisco lets him, soaking in the attention and the goosebumps that raise to get more of Harry all over him. “I want this to be good, Cisco. I want to make you feel good.”

Cisco rests their foreheads together.

“You’re making me feel so good, Harry.” He hears Harry release a shuddering breath. “But I want to make you feel good, too.”

Cisco trails kisses over Harry’s cheek, his jaw, his neck. Harry smooths mindless affection over every inch of him. The sides of his throat, his arms, his belly, sweeping until Harry’s rough palms slip over the insides of his thighs.

“You still have these on,” Harry says, fingers slipping under Cisco’s briefs, mouth open against his jaw.

The butter soft scratch of nails on his thighs has Cisco filling in his underwear; his heart and breath speeds as his dick throbs in time with Harry’s teeth scraping his skin. Cisco bucks his hips forward. He wants more of Harry’s touch, wants to know if Harry is just as hot and needy as he is, wants to rock against each other.

“Wait,” Cisco whispers when Harry robs him of touch to his thighs in order to tug at his elastic waistband. Harry freezes. Cisco reads the panic immediately. He curls his hands around Harry’s wrists, rubbing his thumb back and forth in comfort. “Hey, everything is okay. I was just thinking we could move to the bed. Because I have one of those.”

Harry’s eyes dart to the bedroom.

“We’ll have more room. Also lube. Which is good to have.”

Harry’s fingers drift from under the fabric of his underwear. They stay on him, skittering along his lower belly, stoking the taut heat inside of him.

“Is - I like this, right now. For now. It’s just - ”

Cisco presses a finger to Harry’s kiss swollen lips. Harry goes cross eyed glaring at it. “You don’t owe me an explanation, okay? I like this too.” Cisco accentuates how much by pressing his hips into Harry’s own.

He does. He can think of a few things he’d like better - riding Harry’s dick instead of just his thighs, Harry getting him on his back, Harry’s mouth on him, everywhere - but right now, this soft, easy exploration is perfect. It’s not like this will be the only time they touch. They have plenty of time.

So Cisco kisses Harry again, deep, and shifts his weight to his knees so Harry can tug his briefs down his legs. Harry takes the opportunity to wriggle in a very undignified manner, pushing down his own underwear, and Cisco would probably laugh at the un-Harry-ness of the movement if Harry’s dick wasn’t freed by the motion.

It’s so much better than seeing Lothario’s skeevy junk. Harry is flushed hard and pink and heavy. Long and thick but not so much Cisco couldn’t take it; he’d just have to work for it, just a little, and Cisco’s never shied away from a little hard work.

“Look at you,” Harry breathes, stroking his palms over Cisco’s legs again. The thirst is real when Cisco looks into his face and sees Harry’s eyes narrowed in that serious, not going to be distracted by anything but the world imploding look. Cisco instantly falls in love with being at the other side of that look.

“You can do more than look,” Cisco encourages. He wants to do more than look. He wants to do everything, actually, and suddenly feels breathless under the weight of it. He’s kept his hands to himself for so long that they feel stupid now. Clumsy and dumb and unsure of how to grasp everything they’ve wanted.

Cisco takes a deep breath and slides forward, pressing their foreheads and chests and cocks flush. Harry doesn’t startle, but he does moan, and he does grasp at Cisco’s hips like his hands are slick with need. He finally manages to hook his fingers into the meat of Cisco’s lower back. When he’s steady, when they’re both stable against the sensation, Cisco brings his hands down to stroke them.

“Yeah?” Cisco asks when Harry’s head falls back.

Harry looks at him through lidded eyes. His thumbs trace over Cisco’s hip bones. “Yeah,” he pants. “That’s - good, Cisco. Use your hips more. Grind against me.”

Cisco would say that Harry isn’t in any position to be bossy, but Cisco wants to follow his direction more. He wants to feel Harry shuddering against him. He wants them both to shake and spill all over each other.

For leverage he brings one hand to Harry’s shoulder, holding onto Harry’s muscles for stability as he uses his knees to push himself up, drag their desperation together. Harry doesn’t really move with him but he make an encouraging noise and slide his hands to palm at Cisco’s ass.

“Still good?” Harry asks, squeezing.

Cisco lets his head fall forward in a nod. It’s difficult to speak around the sensation of Harry against him, all around him.

For all of Cisco’s fear, for Harry’s gravel gurgled voice speaking that this game was dangerous, Cisco has never felt as gentle. Harry’s touching him like he’s something irreplaceable, something precious, and Cisco can’t manage much more than need when he drags their cocks together. The soft of them, in sync and exactly what each other needs, is a comfort as much as it is a burst of kerosene.

Harry finally rocks into the program. He pushes up on Cisco’s next push down. The extra friction, the extra slide, is enough to have Cisco groaning Harry’s name. That excites the arrogance Cisco sees in the lab. Harry smirks before bringing his hand to his mouth, spitting so he can get them sloppy and hot.

“Told you lube would’ve been good to have,” Cisco gasps, but there’s no way he’s stopping now to get it. He can imagine how much wetter, how much hotter it would be, but anymore than this and he’d already be finished. The extra grit of friction is more representative of them, anyway.

“You’re welcome to go grab it.”

But Harry’s hands are back on his hips, directing him insistently, and Cisco isn’t sure he could slip out of Harry’s grasp. He doesn’t want to.

Cisco tries not to let Harry get away with the sass. He leans into to suck Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth. Harry groans into him and thrusts up again.

The build up starts in Cisco’s lower stomach. All of his heat pulls tight and pools taut. He can see the red in Harry’s cheeks bleed deeper, see the shine of pre-come at the tip of Harry’s dick, and knows Harry is closer than he is. All Cisco would have to do is slow the roll of his hips. Take a hand to himself, or tell Harry to touch him and see how efficiently he completes that task to, and they could come together.

Instead Cisco rocks faster. He arches his lower back, pressing their hips closer, and flexes his thighs to move slicker. The noises Harry makes are nothing short of obscene. All of them cradle around Cisco, warm and encouraging, awed and worshipful, stringing Cisco along.

“Are you close, Cisco?” Harry pants.

Cisco tries to smile but then Harry leans forward, running his tongue over Cisco’s nipple, and Cisco forgets to answer. All he can manage is a delirious groan.

Harry gets them slick again but this time he leaves his hand, loose around both of their dicks, holding steady while Cisco fucks into and against his grip. It’s still Harry that comes first, and when he does, it’s over both of them.

The extra slick provides an extra glide. Harry recovers quickly enough to wrap his messy hand around Cisco’s dick and jack him off with wet, firm strokes. Cisco has a moment to think, desperately, that it’s so much hotter than lube, before he’s adding to the mess between them.

He slumps against Harry’s shoulder. Harry uses his relatively dry hand to pet calm back into Cisco’s spine.

“Was that - ” Harry half mumbles, half moans, voice still shaking.

Cisco sucks the question off his tongue. “It was perfect,” Cisco whispers. “And now it’s definitely time for bed.”

Harry laughs. He brings his sticky hand to his lips and makes sure he has Cisco’s gaze before lapping at his own fingers. Cisco goes dumb at the sight. He can’t help but lean forward, adding his own tongue to the mix, learning Harry’s taste for the first time. Harry makes a wild sound and kisses him.

“Maybe a shower first,” Harry suggests.

“Mmm. Smart, Harry. You’re so smart.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees. Cisco’s heart thuds. It’s been awhile since Harry has agreed with that particular sentiment. “Now come on. I’ll clean you up.”

Cisco catches him in a deep, lazy kiss, and knows they’ve both played for keeps.


	7. cynco + "god i love you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pairing: cynco  
> prompt: "god, i love you" + "you're mine"  
> additional tags/warnings: hair pulling, oral sex, schmoop, vaginal fingering

Cisco isn’t exactly thinking when he pants it. Cindy has just spun into a truly brilliant stance, using momentum and speed to twist his arm with a crack behind his back and squish him cheek first against the vibe lab wall. He feels her lips curve in a smile against his jaw. Her chest presses warm against his back and their hearts vibrate in time and the words are tangling messy in his head.

“Got you,” she whispers, breath hot on his skin. “What do you say, Cisco?”

Cindy angles his arm farther back, just enough to make his blood rush, and he breathes it before he can stop himself.

“God, I love you.”

She releases him immediately.

Cisco instinctively cradles his arm to his chest. He blinks at the wall as he tries to sort out the buzz of energy and rocket flares that are bright between them. It’s difficult, this close, with this much adrenaline, to sort out what panic is his and what thrills are Cindy’s and vice versa. Hesitation turns him slowly to face her.

Her eyes are wet wide and pretty when their gazes meet. She’s breathing harder than he is.

“Did you just - ” she starts.

She purses her lips, a tell tale sign that Cisco has done something endearing she is trying her hardest to ignore. It’s cute, when she does that, and one day, when Cisco is sure she won’t take it as an insult but the adoration it is, he’s going to tell her. Cisco offers his widest smile, his brightest reassurance, in response. Her tongue swipes against her upturned lip and Cisco tries not to bite his own. This is a moment for talking. Kissing will come later.

Or, hopefully, sooner.

“You’ve never said that before,” Cindy finally says.

“No. And that wasn’t really how I was planning on telling you.”

He tucks his hair behind his ears. They feel hot, like his cheeks, like the inside of his chest. The nerves are confusing. Cindy has to have vibed the depth of his affection before, felt it lapping warm and comfortably dense at her skin the way Cisco has felt her own. This isn’t Cisco chasing a mirage of happiness again. This is real and she feels it too. Why is his throat suddenly tight?

“But that doesn’t make it any less true,” he adds.

Cindy tilts her head, curls cascading, and all Cisco wants to do is sink his fingers in the sturdy soft and tell her again. Say it and show it every way he knows how.

“Are you sure it’s not just the heat of the moment, baby?” She takes a step forward. There is a stutter in her movements. Something not quite confident, not quite sure, as if Cisco has transformed the ground into an unsteady foundation. “You do have trouble staying focused when I’m kicking your ass.”

It’s a tactic. Divert his attention from his own confession and the way her vibes are shaking happy and glowing all around her. She slides her hands up his chest and stares at his mouth, her own lips plush and parted, beckoning him to dip forward. His hands curl around her waist, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“I love you,” he repeats. He waits until she looks from his tongue to his eyes before rubbing his thumbs along the her belly. Her breath quickens, stomach fluttering under his touch the same way it did under his tongue the night before. “I love you, Cynthia. And not just because you can kick my ass. Although that is definitely something I appreciate on the deepest of levels.”

Her face softens. She watches him, sifting through his vibes and what feels like his muscles. There’s a flicker of fear that she won’t find what she’s looking for and his heart gives a needy tremble against his chest. Then she exhales.

Cisco doesn’t know exactly what she’s letting go, but it breathes life into the room, into Cisco’s still hope. When she brings one hand from his chest to cup his cheek, his body feels light. He closes his eyes into her touch.

“You really do.” He doesn’t think he’s imaging the awe in her voice.

He’s going to speak, say it again, say her name, but then her mouth is sliding over his. All of his intentions melt into a whimper that Cindy swallows whole.

She pushes him against the wall again. It’s just as thrilling as the first time; more so, now, with pulse of her answering love pressing as warm to him as her body. His fingers sink into her before grasping lower, one palm resting over the small of her back, the other palming her ass, urging her to get even closer.

They break apart to breathe. Cisco takes a deeper moment, eyes still closed, soaking in the hotgoodneed of the moment. Of Cindy. Of them.

Her fingers stroke over his cheeks. When his eyes flutter open, she licks her lips. 

“You too,” she says, thumb settling on his bottom lip. Her gaze doesn’t leave his mouth. “Let me show you how much.”

When Cisco originally designed the vibe suit, how easy it would be to rip off his body wasn’t a consideration. Luckily, Cindy’s fingers are nimble and clever and good with leather. She has the jacket zipped open and off and his suspenders pushed over his shoulders so quickly it takes Cisco’s breath away. He’s already aching against her when she undoes his pants.

She pulls away, and he knows it’s to take a greedy gulp of air, but he chases her heat anyway. Her laugh is breathless and beautiful in his ear when she grasps his chin, holding him steady even as he feels like he might warble to liquid at her feet. She palms his dick with her other hand. He breathes her name.

“Let me, baby.” She kisses him, closed mouthed on the lips, then against the side of his mouth. Then on his cheek. His jaw. Her knuckles press light and promising against him, and he twitches, flushed and needy, when she licks the shell of his ear. “Let me show you.”

It’s difficult to think past the want fog that blurs his head. He wants to sink into whatever she wants. Give her anything, let her have anything, do it with a smile and thrum of joy because he loves her to his bones and would let her play him into a trembling mess for as long as she wanted. But he wants to show her, too. He wants to put his adoration into action just as firmly as he’s put it into words.

He manages to unzip and push away her jacket. They kiss again, deep, tangled and wet and weak kneed, and Cisco cups her breasts over her tank. A noise shakes from her mouth and he licks desperately at her pleasure. Rough doesn’t quicken her breath, so Cisco keeps his touches languid. He makes himself count to ten as he pulls the straps of her shirt down her arms then unhooks her bra.

If she would give him the time, he’d breath warm against her nipples, rub circles with his thumbs until she tugged his hair and brought his mouth where she wanted it. But she’s not going to, not now, when her own mission is clear in her head. She lets him kiss her neck and palm her breasts until she presses her thigh between his legs.

She takes two fistfuls of his hair, pulling his head back, and licks along his Adam’s apple. The move stretches him open and vulnerable and ready.

With a teasing pull, she kisses him one more time, then slides to her knees.

Cisco doesn’t exactly hyperventilate, but it’s a near thing. He would be embarrassed if he thought any other person on earth wouldn’t have the same reaction to Cindy smiling up at them, peering under her lashes and licking her lips like she’s just as desperate. His fingers barely tremble as he pets through her hair.

“Tell me,” she starts, peeling down his pants, and Cisco’s thirsty tongue starts slurring before she can even finish speaking.

“I love you,” he says again. He means it. He doesn’t know that he’s ever said it to someone who’s held his heart so completely. His head falls against the wall and he watches her, inside out and on display. Whatever she wants to see, whatever she wants to vibe, he’s offering it on a shaking platter. “I love you. I love - ”

Then Cindy smiles, slow and dimple deep. She wraps her fingers around him, drinking in his gasp, and her tongue drifts between her lips.

“I love hearing that,” she whispers, eyeing the flushed, wet tip of his cock. “But that’s what not I was going to ask.”

“What? What do you - I’ll tell you anything, baby, just - ”

She kisses his dick, just below the head, and his toes curl in his shoes. “Tell me you’re mine.”

And Cisco can do that, because he is. He most certainly, fully, from his brain to his blood, is hers.

“I’m yours. I love you, and I’m yours.”

She pumps him, just the way she knows he likes it. He fucks into her grip, just the way he knows she likes it. They share a hungry breath before she leans forward, licking him from base to tip, and he isn’t sure what he’s saying when his eyes drift closed at the sensation.

“You’re mine,” she repeats. “Just like I’m yours.”

Cisco fights to open his eyes. He loves watching her; anytime, really. When she’s fighting, speaking, smiling cocky or soft. There is a grace in the way she moves and breathes. A beauty in her skill, her rough edges, the gentle curl of her lips and heart. Even in this, when he’s vibrating apart under her tongue, when wet gathers at her eyes and her mouth is stretched so messy her lipstick smears, she’s exquisite.

Her fingers curl around his hips. She urges him forward, deeper, and he’s helpless to do anything but fuck into her mouth. He keeps moving his fingers over her scalp, palms at the back of her head, pressure gentle and warm. Words are falling soft and desperate from his lips but he isn’t sure what they are. When she flicks her eyes up, daring him to do anything but unravel, he surges deeper.

Part of him wants to tell her to slow down, gorgeous, take it easy. The pleasure centers of his brain urge him to soak in the sloppy wet of Cindy’s mouth, the heady warmth of her own pleasure vibes, the buzz of her moans. But he also wants to come. The need is pressing sharp in his skin and Cindy clearly doesn’t want to drive slow. There’s an urgency in Cindy’s touch that hasn’t existed before tonight. She’s trying to tell him, is desperate to show him, that she feels the same.

Cisco tries to tell her he knows, but her tongue starts working the underside of his dick, dragging along his skin as she sucks him fast then faster. All he can manage is her name before his head falls back.

She keeps him in her mouth as his breathing shakes back to steady. He cups her cheek and she takes the cue, easing away, licking the last bead of come from his skin before sliding up his body.

“I love you,” he says again. He slurs into her mouth, then into her laugh. She licks across his tongue and the taste of himself makes him weak. Weaker.

“I could get used to hearing that.”

Her voice is soft. She means it. Cisco makes a promise to himself that he’s going to make her tired of hearing it.

Cisco lets her distract herself with their kiss long enough to crowd her so that it’s her back against the wall this time. She’s smiling at him when he pulls away to make sure it’s where she wants to be. Her smile deepens into something messy and wet when he mouths at that spot right below her ear, skin soft and delicate when he scrapes his teeth along it. Just a hint of blunt, nothing deeper, and he soothes it immediately with his tongue.

She lets him glut himself. He kisses her neck, over her collar, then finally closes his mouth around one nipple. He flicks his tongue against her, alternating between sucking and licking, while she moans how good he is and drags her nails over his scalp. He could tease her like this for hours if she’d let him.

But Cindy doesn’t have that kind of patience.

She pushes down her own pants and panties while he keeps sucking her breast, using one free hand to roll her other nipple between his fingers. Her grip on his wrist guides his other hand between her thighs.

They both groan when he slides his index finger between her pussy lips. She’s so wet, god, and it makes his brain sizzle in his skull. He could fuck right inside if she hadn’t already sucked him knee weak.

She tugs his hair, pulling his mouth to her own before angling him back. He pants against her panting. Her eyes are blown black and he knows he must look as wrecked as she does. His chest flares, proud and thrilled that he breathed that into life. He can feel her aching; feel her need like a physical thing, scraping against his skin, but he can feel her adoration, too. It’s warm and fluttering and deep.

“Your mouth,” she breathes, pressing her fingers to his tongue. “Come on, Cisco. Show me that you're mine.”

He could pretend he’s not as eager as he is to get on his knees, but there’s no reason. If she couldn’t vibe it she could read it all over his smile.

There’s nothing urging him to tease it out. When they’re vibing like this, molecules and pleasure in sync, he can make her come and come and come. It’s intoxicating. He doesn’t have to worry that he won’t make her see the same stars she helps him reach or that she’ll be too sensitive for him to drink his fill.

She hooks one knee over his shoulder and guides him exactly where she wants him. He drags the flat of his tongue over her clit, no tease, no goal but to get her off. Her fingers knot into his hair. The sting of it is enough to make him moan. Combined with the taste of her, the slick slide of his tongue over her skin, it’s enough to make him ache.

She leads him with little moans and soft, breathless praises. He loses himself in the feeling of her; her weight, her taste, her pleasure. Then she tugs his hair, hard.

“Give me your fingers, baby.”

He does. Just one, just at first, slipping hot and easy inside of her. He fingers her, sucking on her clit, until she pulls his hair again. Fucking two fingers inside is just as easy and he groans right along with her when her cunt flutters wet around him.

It doesn’t usually take long, the first time. He licks firm, sure strokes and crooks his fingers, hot inside out at making her come apart between his mouth and touch. Her groans and the buzz of her vibes guide him to the right rhythm, the right speed, the right pressure. Soon her noises crescendo. She gasps something, pulls his hair tight, and shakes.

He eases away from her clit but fingers her through her trembling. When she’s panting, shuddering in the come down, he slips his hand under her quivering thigh and tongues at her cunt.

“Cisco.” She doesn’t pull him away, even as she moans. He knows she won’t make him stop. As long as he doesn’t touch her clit until she directs him to again, she’s not too sensitive for him to make soft, slow circles with his tongue. It keeps her wet and ready and on edge.

The next orgasm won’t happen as easy. Cisco is ready to work for it.

He does. He stays on his knees until they creak on the floor and past that, but it doesn’t matter, not when Cindy is moving against his tongue and telling him how much she loves his mouth, loves that he’s her’s, loves that he loves her, loves him, loves him, love him. She urges him until he’s three fingers deep, tongue swirling around her clit, sucking it light then licking it fast, working her past the ache in his jaw and wrist until she’s spilling slick and messy.

She pulls him into a sloppy kiss. He wants to keep the taste of her on his tongue, the wet and weight of her on his fingers, but he knows she’ll make him shower once they breach back to his apartment. She likes to start with a clean slate before she dirties him up again.

“I think,” she whispers between kisses. “This was our best.” Kiss, bite against his jaw. “Training session yet.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but honestly, he would probably say yes to anything at this point. “I loved it.”

She pinches his side. Her eyes are gentle, though, and when she leans in again, she only kisses his cheek. “I loved it too.”


	8. harrisco + harry hates popsicles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: fic where Harry’s never had a popsicle and he finds Cisco eating one.
> 
> rated t, s4.

Harry had a question. He did. He can’t remember it now, exactly; his brain started throbbing stupid and slow when he walked into the break room and found Cisco, lounging on a couch, playing with his phone, sucking a - well. Harry doesn’t know what it is that Cisco is slurping up, but Harry knows he hates it. 

“What are you doing, Ramon?” 

Cisco glances up from his phone. He slides the thing that isn’t Harry out of his mouth with a pop. His lips are blue. When he speaks, Harry sees his tongue is, too. Harry flexes his fingers. 

“I told you I need a Bomb Pop break. I’ve been vibing all day. My head hurts and it’s hot as hell in the main room.” Cisco slips what Harry can only assume is the Bomb Pop between his lips. He makes a noise around it, soft and satisfied, not unlike the gentle sigh he makes around Harry’s tongue. 

Harry slides into the room. “I have no idea what a Bomb Pop is.”

Blinking, Cisco pops the - candy? ice cream? stupid thing occupying Cisco’s mouth - from his lips. He waves it. Harry remains focused on his mouth. “They don’t have Bomb Pop’s on Earth 2? That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, Harry. They’re the best popsicles in the multiverse. They’re the  _bomb_.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry slips on the couch. Cisco lifts his feet, letting Harry settle before plopping his legs onto Harry’s lap. Harry’s hands settle on Cisco’s calves. It will never cease to amaze Harry - how easy it all is. How good. 

“We don’t have popsicles.”

Harry’s hungry fingers find their way under Cisco’s pant leg. He stokes at Cisco’s ankle, the skin warm and soft, inviting Harry to slide his touch further. Cisco jostles the ease of the moment when he sits up. Suddenly Cisco’s fingers are around his chin, holding his gaze still and steady and deep.

“You what?”

The blue staining Cisco’s mouth is oddly mesmerizing. “I don’t know what a popsicle is.” Cisco’s colored lips part. Harry wonders if this popsicle has changed the taste. “It seems. Obscene.”

A smile unfurls, summer lazy, and Cisco releases Harry from his touch but not from his hold. He brings the Bomb Pop back to his lips. 

“It’s ice cream. Kind of. Basically. It’s a sweet treat perfect when things get too hot.” He wriggles his eyebrows.

Harry rolls his eyes against the grin he can feel tugging at his cheeks. He’s going to remind Cisco that he’s not nearly as smooth as he thinks he is, but then Cisco drags his tongue over the tip of the Bomb Pop. Harry’s head empties. When Cisco sucks the popsicle back into his mouth, he’s still smirking around it. 

“I don’t like popsicles,” Harry says definitively. He reaches up to tug it out of Cisco’s fingers. Cisco lets him.

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.” Cisco leans in, nose against Harry’s cheekbone, mouth against his jaw. His breath is cool against Harry’s skin. Goosebumps rise to meet Cisco’s mouth. “You can’t decide you don’t like something if you haven’t even tried it.”

Harry considers this as he considers the chill of Cisco’s lips. He drops the popsicle, fully aware that Cisco will bitch at him for the mess later, looking forward to the high pitch of Cisco’s voice and the way Cisco stands with his hands on his hips. Hands free, Harry cups Cisco’s jaw, pressing his thumbs to Cisco’s cheeks.

“You’re right.”

“Mmm.” Cisco brushes a cold kiss just below Harry’s ear. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Come here.” Harry eases Cisco back to face him. “Give me a taste.”

Cisco is sweet and cool against his tongue. 


	9. harrisco + cisco introduces harry as his goth gf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trashgaryen had a dream cisco inroduced harry as his goth gf ;-;

Cisco is considering designs for a Vibe emblem when Harry stomps into their workshop. There’s no hey, no what are you working on Ramon, no haven’t seen you in an hour kiss that will tumble into a sloppy make out.

Harry just slaps his tablet over Cisco’s - rude - and crosses his arms.

“I am not that.”

It’s a declaration, but Cisco doesn’t know of what. Doesn’t care, really.

“Okay,” Cisco agrees, moving the tablet off his own. “You’re not a machine. Is this your way of telling me your tour de force last night was a fluke? Because I was just kidding about four being the new orgasm standard - ”

Harry huffs and puts his tablet over Cisco’s again. “I’m not that,” he repeats. His hands gesture wildly to the screen. His cheeks are red.

Cisco blinks into a page Google search results. A sea of cloud white faces framed in ebony and blood red stares sullenly back at him.

“You told that kid yesterday I was your goth gf.”

Recognition lights Cisco up, bulb bright. He laughs at the memory of Barry and the meta girl they brought from the brink the day before. She’d been so grateful to her heroes. The Flash, and Vibe, and the strange man in all black with the gun. Cisco had taken it upon himself to introduce them.

Cisco laughs along to the echo of Barry’s laughter. “Ah, yeah. The things I say are so hilarious and poignant. Barry’s been sending me memes all day.”

“I’m not goth.” Harry squints as he says this, wrinkles caving in stern and handsome between his eyes. The black of his sweater screams to Harry’s paleness, the thin ribbed stretch of him. There is enough muscle visible to differentiate Harry from a Tim Burton drawing. His face, though - Cisco is fairly certain the last time he witnessed an expression so shadowed was -

Goth GF number three on the top row of pictures. Cisco glances between the creature of darkness on the screen and the one at his side.

“If you say so,” Cisco says. It’s not an agreement and not an argument. Harry hates that response.

“I researched, Ramon. The aesthetic is a joke. I mean, white face? Really? And there are so many buckles. So many. No one could ever need that many.”

“I mean, I’m glad you haven’t embraced the buckles. But other parts of the aesthetic…”

Cisco gestures to Goth GF one on row four of the search results. Black sweater, black cargo pants, dark brown black hair messy and long.

“That’s,” Harry says, hands motioning without meaning. Cisco waits with both eyebrows up while Harry’s hands find his hips. He never stood like that before he saw Cisco slip into the stance. “It’s bad, okay. And their music? Just as bad. Worse. Joy Division. See-oaks and the Banshees - ”

“Pretty sure it’s pronounced Susie, babe.”

“It’s pronounced crap, okay. Evanescence - ”

“Hey,” Cisco says, raising a finger. “No. Their first album slaps, okay. Also, you can’t judge anyone’s taste in music.”

“My ear for music is impeccable. And I listened to several goth mixes and I can tell you, objectively, it was all trash.”

Cisco rubs his temples. “Why are you so pissy about this? Although I do appreciate you’re not bothered by the girlfriend part.”

“You’re the one who told me sex and gender were fluid and that I should quote, get into it, unquote.”

Harry is crossing his arms again. He turns his sour mouth to the side, staring at his goth boots with his ice eyes that lack only a smudge of black to earn his own place on the Google Goth GF page. The brood is real.

Cisco pushes from his chair. He takes his very own goth gf in his hands, thumbs sweeping over biceps that seem powered solely by the strength of Harry’s irritation and discontent. Even Harry’s muscle is goth. Cisco keeps it to himself.

“You know I love it when you listen to me.” Cisco tries to punctuate the low belly simmer tease with a kiss.

Harry twists from it. “Wouldn’t want to get my black lipstick all over you.”

Cisco laughs. He can’t help it. Harry looks like a baby swaddled in black.

“Harry. Handsome. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize you were so offended by gothic subculture. Next time I’ll introduce you as my hot, totally athletic, totally not goth, jock gf.”

Cisco tip toes in for a kiss. Harry nearly sways into it.

Then there’s a palm on Cisco’s chest, pushing him, but not towards a wall or to heat or to giggling, breathless touches in the supply closet.

“It was just a joke.”

“I know,” Harry snaps, quick and cranky. He turns away, shoulders broad and ebony, an eclipse in front of Cisco’s sun. Guilt gnaws at Cisco’s knuckles. “I know it was a joke. But that’s - I don’t want to be that.”

Cisco frowns. He gentles his fingertips over Harry’s shoulder blades, turns Harry to face him with patience.

“You’re not a joke.” Cisco cups Harry’s cheeks. Harry lets him.

“I don’t want what I am to you to be a joke,” Harry says softly. “I know you didn’t mean it like that but I - knowing that didn’t make me less. Goth about it.”

Cisco laughs again, a whisper this time, quiet with worry and sorry and heart. He strokes  Harry’s face, his jaw. “Nothing about what you are to me is a joke. I’m sorry I made you feel goth about it.”

Harry lets Cisco kiss him this time.

“You’re not completely forgiven, you know,” Harry says against his mouth.

“Mmm. What exactly do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?”

Harry’s hands find his hips. “Next time we meet someone new. Just introduce me as your - Harry.”

Cisco smiles into their kiss. “As my Harry?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Nope.” Cisco tilts his head, lets Harry kiss the sensitive smooth below his ear. “Does that make me your Ramon?”

Harry answers yes with teeth, scraping wet good heat down Cisco’s throat. Cisco can live with that label.


	10. cynrisco + mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cindy and harry totally not tricking cisco under the mistletoe so they can make out with him. 
> 
> season 4, rated t.

“This is a nice house,” Cindy observes, casual, as she leans against the kitchen counter. Harry pops by her side to hand her a drink before stepping next to Cisco, filling his hands with a warm mug. 

“Yeah,” Cisco agrees, smiling his thanks to Harry. “It’s too bad they’re selling it.”

Cindy makes a noise into her cup then sets it down. “I’d love a tour.”

The tilt of her words makes Cisco blink, a little slow under the warmth of eggnog and the endeared smiles both Cindy and Harry keep trying to hide. Like he doesn’t already know he’s made both of their Grinch hearts grow two sizes already. Then Harry is plucking the mug he just placed in Cisco’s hands out of them, replacing the warm cup with his warmer fingers.

“We’d love to give you a tour.”

That tone is definitely one Cisco has never heard from Harry before. Oddly cheerful and pointed. Cisco doesn’t have much time to decipher it. Cindy curls her hand into Cisco’s free one and Harry tugs them along. 

So a tour is happening. Cisco can go with that.

He tells them all the historic details of the house as they walk up the stairs, making particular note of iconic West-Allen moments. He’s pretty sure neither of them is really listening to him - Cindy keeps pressing herself against his back, nuzzling at his hair, a sure sign that she’s had just as much eggnog as he has, and Harry keeps stepping into rooms with brisk movements only to direct them out a moment later.

Cisco is still talking when Harry pulls them into the guest room. Still talking when Harry yanks him farther inside this one and Cindy closes the door behind her, which does make Cisco pause, until he notices her gaze is fixed on the ceiling. 

He looks up. Mistletoe. He blinks. Mistletoe in the guest room?

“What’s that?” Cindy asks, more innocent than she probably has ever been. 

Before Cisco can answer, Harry is turning in his grasp, getting his hands on Cisco’s shoulders, guiding him forward. Cindy seems to vibe on his end game, easy, and smiles as she pulls Cisco along with Harry’s push. In a breath Cindy is backed against the door, grinning as Cisco is pressed against her and Harry steps flush against Cisco’s back.

“Cindy doesn’t know what mistletoe is,” Harry says, low and liquor wet hot in Cisco’s ear. “We should show her.”

Then Cindy’s hands are squishing his face and her mouth is sliding against his, warm and whiskey red. Cisco kisses her back easily because what else is he going to do. He can feel her smile against his lips. 

There’s a beat of just them before he feels Harry’s fingers pulling his hair back, tugging a little sharp that makes Cisco melt, and Harry’s mouth is on his neck. 

It’s almost enough to make Cisco forget where he is. Caught flush between his two favorite people, the two people that yell at him when he puts himself at risk and whisper that he’s perfect and hold him through good and bad nights, he transcends from the West house into that hot good happy place that is his favorite place to be.

His foggy brain is on the verge of tipping into quiet, into slumping between them and following their lead, until Cindy breaks from the kiss to suck on the other side of Cisco’s jaw.

“Wait,” he says, inhaling shakily when two pairs of hands settle on the curve of his waist. “Wait. How did you know to kiss me?”

Both of them still.

Cindy speaks first, making sure her mouth moves over his pulse. “I always want to kiss you, Cisco. It’s my instinct.”

“She has to follow her instincts,” Harry says. He sucks Cisco’s earlobe between his teeth and Cisco groans a little, distracted, swayed -

“Wait,” he says again, and this time they both groan and pull away. His skin screams at the loss and he wonders why his mouth is moving for a second but he can’t stop it. “Did you guys plan this?”

They both stiffen again. Cindy’s mouth drops open and when Cisco looks over his shoulder, Harry is wearing a matching scandalized expression. Both are fake. Obvious and plastic and fake. 

“Are you implying that we - we what, lured you here? Put up mistletoe and tricked you under so we could make out with you at the West family Christmas?” Harry sputters.

Cisco frowns at him.

“That doesn’t sound like something we would do,” Cindy says, cupping his cheek. She offers a brilliant smile that’s beautiful and blinding and clearly a ploy. “We know you’re uncomfortable with public displays of affection.”

“It’s not affection I’m uncomfortable with,” Cisco reminds them. Harry presses closer behind him, hot and lean, which presses Cisco even further into Cindy’s own heat. “You two have poor impulse control.”

“Mmm,” Harry murmurs, fingers slipping under the collar of Cisco’s shirt so he can fasten his teeth into Cisco’s shoulder. Cisco’s eyes flutter at the sensation, blooming just the good side of painful and wet, and he watches Cindy lick her lips. Harry pulls away with a pant. “That doesn’t sound like us either.”

“I just wanted to learn about your Earth’s traditions.” Cindy pouts, using her powers for Evil, and Harry only encourages her.

“Now you made our girlfriend sad.” Cisco’s eye roll skitters into another eye flutter when Harry’s fingers curl into his hips and press him forward. “And I’m deeply hurt you would think we would try to trick you into debauchery.”

Cindy grips his chin between her fingers and tilts his head, giving Harry the perfect access to kiss him quick and deep and dirty. When Harry pulls away, Cindy rests her thumb on Cisco’s bottom lip.

“How are you going to make it up to us, Cisco?” 

Cisco glances at an alarm clock - on a bed stand next to a bed that looks probably big enough to hold three people. He groans and tries to remember a time when he had boundaries. A time before Cindy and Harry and watching them melt around him. 

He takes in the time. They have a little while before Joe’s annual Christmas speech. 

“I’m sorry I accused you of trying to lure me into holiday mischief,” Cisco tells them, not missing the grin they share. He dips his head to kiss Cindy again, deeper this time, and winds his hand back to grip Harry by the hair. 

Eventually he forgets the clock. He has all the time in the world for them.


	11. harry + pining for cisco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry pining for cisco after hr's death.  
> season 3, rated t. angst.

The guilt comes, eventually. Blunt and dull and gnawing at Harry until he’s sore inside. It blooms like an opening fist. It settles. It stays.

But it doesn’t come first. The pain, the regret, the grief - all of it is an afterthought. When Allen tells him HR is gone, Harry’s gut swoops hot and every ugly part of him flashes bright behind his eyes.

_Cisco is his._

It doesn’t make sense. Harry’s fingernails scrape against his palm. He watches Allen’s mouth curl around words that he can’t quite follow because HR is dead. Thawne is dead. Snow might as well be and Cisco hasn’t looked at Allen quite the same way since the Flashpoint and none of them can claim him the way they could before.

Harry could. Harry can. Can he?

They scramble and scrape. Cisco appears with Cynthia at his side and when he says Harry’s name he says it like an accusation. Shame flushes Harry raw and he tries to offer penance, apologize for the greed in his belly and his mouth. He’s here to help. Not to tendril into Cisco’s new, empty spaces. Not to take advantage or offer himself up as a worn but eager alternative to loneliness.

They save the day and don’t. Allen asks him to stay. Cisco doesn’t. Then Allen is gone, taking the parts of Iris that make her Iris and a chunk of Joe’s heart. And Harry is needed. Cisco doesn’t say it, but he watches Harry and stays close, always close, and Harry can feel it. He’s needed. Cisco needs him.

In a way it’s better than being wanted. More secure. It ties Cisco to him the way wearing his old mentor’s face never had.

He knows it doesn’t really make Cisco his. But he’ll take what he can get.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [take a risk, sweetheart [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951857) by [KD reads (KDHeart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20reads)




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